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ONE
\u201cI \ue001avor the red ribbons because they look like blood.\u201d
The pirate worked as he spoke, plaiting thin lengths o\ue000 crimson

silk into the raven hair o\ue001 a wig on its tabletop stand. His own hair was almost exactly the same color o\ue001 black, but closely cropped, the short growth even, suggesting that he had shaved his head a

\ue000ortnight or two back. His beard, on the other hand, was thick
and long, the ends o\ue001 it bleached to a lighter brown by salt air and
sun. Every strand had been combed and lightly dampened with
sperm-whale oil, the scent o\ue001 it warm and very nearly spicy in the
small, close cabin o\ue001 the sloop.
The pirate stepped back a bit to look at his work, leaning
naturally to keep his \ue001ooting as they canted over onto a \ue001resh heel.
Above their heads, the ship groaned and creaked with the turn,
the mate\u2019s commands coming through the wooden bulkheads as
a series o\ue001 curt, mu\ue001fed shouts.
The pirate gazed down his nose at the bare\ue000oot and bare-
chested \ue000\ue001teen-year-old on the other side o\ue001 the table. The younger

man\u2019s skin was a deep chocolate brown, almost as dark as his jet- black hair, a \ue001act that made his eyes appear larger than they were, giving him the appearance o\ue001 an innocent.

\u201cWhy do you think that is, boy?\u201d
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Tom morrisey
The young man startled and stood a little straighter. \u201cSir?\u201d
\u201cThe ribbons, boy.\u201d The man\u2019s voice was a calm baritone. \u201cWhy
would I \ue001avor ribbons that resemble blood?\u201d
The younger man kept his eyes \ue000xed on those o\ue001 the pirate

but canted his head slightly down and to his right, a mannerism he had when he knew the answer to something but was thinking it through, just to be certain. Lips still closed, he took a quick dart o\ue001 breath through his nose.

\u201cBecause a \ue000erce man, streaming blood but on the attack,
would present a most \ue000rightening aspect, Captain. Because a person

so startled would hesitate in his own de\ue001ense, and a moment o\ue001 hesitation is an opportunity in which to attack. At very least that is how I see it, sir.\u201d

The pirate stopped his work and touched an index \ue000nger to his
lower lip. \u201cTell me, boy\u2014have you been speaking with my crew,
discussing my manners, my ways?\u201d
His companion shook his head. \u201cNo, sir. The crew doesn\u2019t
talk about you. The crew doesn\u2019t talk about anything but women
and riches and rum.\u201d
The captain laughed. \u201cAnd which o\ue001 those three interests you?\u201d
\u201cThe riches, Captain.\u201d

The pirate laughed again and started another ribbon into the wig. He turned it to look at his work. The younger man watched and then cleared his throat.

\u201cMight I ask you something, Captain?\u201d
The captain li\ue000ted a single eyebrow\u2014his right. \u201cYou cannot
learn i\ue001 you do not ask.\u201d
\u201cYes, sir. Thank you, sir.... When you took the slaver? When

you took the crew . . . ?\u201d
\u201cYes?\u201d
\u201cYou sold all the rest o\ue001 the . . . cargo. Yet you did not sell me.

Why?\u201d
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